Find A Way
by GlamorousIndieRockAndRoll
Summary: AU series of one shots exploring Arya and Jaqen's relationship, with elements of Sandor x Sansa later on .
1. Challenge

**Don't know how often I'll update this, whenever inspiration strikes I suppose. Title comes from the song Find A Way by Safetysuit which I adore :)**

**Arya is 15 (almost 16), Jaqen 18, and I know nothing about fencing so if I get anything wrong imagine I know what I'm talking about.**

Challenge.

Everything was the same but different, and Arya wondered how that could be.

The large gym where she had fencing classes looked exactly the same as last time, but something fundamental had changed, because her Father was dead. She wanted everyone to recognise that somehow, wanted them to understand that her Father was never coming back, and how dare Pia laugh at Gendry's conversation when she was slumped on the bench hurting?

Arya had dug her heels in about going but Jon had practically pushed her out of the car claiming they had to carry on as normal.

Normal.

Normal didn't exist anymore, not since she was woken two weeks ago by her Mother's hysterical sobbing in the middle of the night. Her Father had passed away at work, victim of a heart attack.

It didn't even make sense. Arya thwacked her leg with her èpèe angrily, welcoming the blossoming sting it made. Her Father was the most alive person she knew, for him to die of something stupid like the heart... her Father had the biggest heart. Jon could consent to that, the adopted son adored by him. And it was Jon who had made her go to class even though she didn't want to, and she blinked back tears and miserably watched Syrio organise everyone.

She loved fencing it was true, but Father had given her Needle and now Father was dead and how was she expected to fight when all she wanted to do was cry?

Sansa was crying right now, Arya knew. Sansa hadn't stopped crying, even as Robb told her with a face lined with grief that she had to be strong for Mum. Arya had tried to be strong, she really had. She cried at night under cold bed covers and in the morning was ready for school with no complaints, kissing her Mother on the cheek who stared vaguely at her with glazed eyes. She even helped Rickon one morning which surprised everyone, most of all Rickon who actually behaved and didn't try to bite.

"Arya." Syrio clapped his hands and she looked up at him from picking at her uniform. "Up, up!" She heaved herself off the bench, sword at the ready. Before she could even move he had jabbed her with the pointy end and she glowered.

"I wasn't ready."

"Then next time be ready." He danced away. "Partners!"

She usually partnered with Gendry, but this time he'd gone with Pia who wouldn't stop laughing, floundering so ridiculously with the foil it was clear it was her first lesson. Arya sneered slightly and looked at the other few members of the small class. Hot Pie and a girl whose name Arya always forgot, Brienne Tarth and Loras Tyrell. Biter and Rorge, if only because nobody else would ever go with them.

"A girl needs a partner?" She turned to look at the speaker.

She didn't recognise the voice and she'd certainly never seen him before; she would have remembered that. His hair was dark red and curly down to his shoulders and he had a white streak on his left side he constantly tucked behind his ear. He looked stupid.

"Yes. You're new." She said bluntly and the boy laughed. He had nice straight teeth and full lips with a hint of stubble.

"A girl is observant." Was that a smirk playing on his lips? "I am Jaqen H'ghar, from the city of Lorath."

"What are you doing in Winterfell?" Arya crinkled her nose. Winterfell was a tiny Northern town practically in the middle of nowhere, and Lorath was a huge city miles away.

He shrugs delicately. "A man grows bored of big cities. A man prefers the nice quiet life of small towns."

"Suit yourself." Arya muttered, although she wouldn't exactly call Winterfell nice and quiet. "I'm Arya Stark."

"I know."

Everyone knew who the Starks were, the founding family of Winterfell with decade long feuds amongst families in nearby towns, notably the Lannisters of Casterly Rock.

"Well?" Arya demanded. "Are we going to partner or not?"

Jaqen H'ghar grinned and lunged forward. Arya brought Needle up and their èpèes clashed together.

Stupidly, Arya had assumed if he was a beginner like Pia he'd naturally be useless. But no, clearly he'd had training somewhere else. She gritted her teeth as he drove her backwards effortlessly.

_Swift as a deer._

She tried to mimic Syrio's instructions, to be a water dancer, flexible and supple and fast but Jaqen was quicker, faster, stronger and she snarled as the tip of his sword lightly touched her shoulder, the flesh of her hip, her ankle as he swiped at her feet and nearly knocked her off balance. He obviously found her anger amusing and she gritted her teeth as sweat dripped down her forehead and soaked her back, hopping back and forth.

_Quick as a snake._

She managed to jab him in the armpit as he spun away and flushed triumphantly, gaining another two hits in a row. And then Jaqen stopped holding himself back and absolutely pummelled her, èpèe flashing as she gasped for breath, hair sticking to her forehead and hands hot and slick in her gloves as she whipped Needle up weakly in defence. One, two, three, four, five hits. They finished at Syrio's clack of tongue.

"Calm as still water Miss Arya yes?" Arya nodded shamefully but Syrio smiled.

"See?" He told his class. "This is a proper match."

He whirled away to teach Pia how to hold a foil and Arya turned back to Jaqen.

"I could have beaten you." His dark blue eyes sparkled and she has to admit they were pretty, beautiful even.

"A man likes a challenge." She appreciated that he didn't call her rubbish or taunt her for loosing.

She walked over to the bench and slumped on it once more, but this time she was not alone. She gulped the contents of her water bottle greedily, passing it to Jaqen when she was sated who took a polite sip.

"You must be starting at school after the summer then, if you're new here." She stated. "What year will you be in?"

"I'll be in sixth form." That meant he was seventeen or eighteen. Sansa's age. She tried to imagine her sister speaking to Jaqen and couldn't.

"My sister will be going into sixth form this year too. Her name's Sansa."

"Does she do fencing too?"

"No." Arya scoffed. "She likes boys and makeup and singing really awfully."

Jaqen laughed. "It is good I have met a different Stark than. Round two?" He grabbed her hand to pull her off the bench, and this time Arya won although she had a sneaking suspicion he had let her.

She aired this to him half an hour later as they were leaving, bags slung over their shoulders. They were soaked in sweat but satisfied with the workout and Arya didn't want to admit it but she was glad Jon had shoved her out of the car earlier.

"A girl does not believe she has talent?" Jaqen arched an eyebrow at her. "A man is shocked. You're the best partner I've ever had."

"Shut up." She mumbled, flushing with pleasure. "I've only been at classes for a year and a half."

"Natural talent." Jaqen rephrased as he pushed the door open and ushered her through first. She stepped out into the night sky and welcomed the late summer breeze on her face.

She stood with the building against her back, staring out at the almost empty car park.

"Where did you learn to train?"

"In Lorath. There was this huge building, and I had a lot of spare time on my hands so I went once to amuse myself and kept going."

She could understand that, felt the same compulsive urge gnawing at her from the moment she put the foil down for the first time.

"Do you have natural talent, or did you just train a lot?" She asked with a slight smirk and Jaqen stared at her with mock horror.

"Well of course I have natural talent! A man is offended."

Arya wouldn't call it a laugh exactly, but it was the closest thing since three weeks ago.

"My Dad signed me up." She said into the silence, choking the words with a twisted tongue and she wondered why she was blurting this out to a stranger, practically. "He's dead now. He died of a heart attack three weeks ago."

Jaqen nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry. I know what you're going through."

His eyes stared deeply into hers, darker than ever in the night and she wanted to ask him why he knew and apologise, ask how he coped because she felt like she was falling apart.

"I just keep thinking of- of morbid, disgusting things." She continues. "I dreamt he was a skeleton with worms crawling out of his skull and I ate them."

Jaqen considered this for a moment. "Valar Morghulis."

"What?" Arya blinked. She had never heard of the phrase, hadn't even heard the language it was part of.

"All men must die."

"You're more morbid then I am."

"Not morbid, unafraid. Are you scared of death Arya Stark?"

A shrill car horn broke the moment and she looked up to see Jon's battered car driving across the car park towards them.

"That's my brother." Arya explained, hefting Needle up further into a stronger grip. "... I'll see you next week?"

Jaqen smiled at her. "A man looks forward to it."

"You talk weird. Who refers to themselves in third person?"

"Jaqen H'ghar."

She snorted as she waved goodbye and chucked Needle in the back seat before scrambling up next to her brother.

"Did you have a good time?"

"It was okay."

She shrugged nonchalantly and turned to watch Jaqen saunter off to what she presumed was his own car in the corner. So he'd waited with her even when he didn't have to. That made her stomach flop weirdly, and she twisted back to look at her brother, thoughts full of death and fencing and she had to look up who else spoke in third person if only to annoy Jaqen with the information later. She was almost looking forward to it.

Jon smiled at her knowingly, dark eyes so alike hers glittering as he glanced up from the steering wheel.

"What?"

He shook his head, turning back to the road.

Arya leant against the window staring out into the night and hesitantly placed fingers on her lips. She felt the smile stretched there, the first smile since her world fell apart, and smiled even broader at the thought of next weeks class.


	2. Conversation

Conversation.

He looked different in his uniform. She didn't think she would be disappointed, but she was. Maybe it was because under the artificial school lighting you couldn't see the white stripe in his hair as clearly. Maybe it was because without his usual style of clothes he was just like everyone else.

Except he wasn't.

Arya had heard the boys snickering at him on the first day, jealous of the way girls ogled at him

Arya wasn't blind; with his fine features and particular way of speaking not to mention him being fresh meat, every girl in school desired him that first day. Well almost every girl.

Sansa had drove Arya to and from school, and sniffed derisively when she reported back to her at the end of the day.

"He was in my Religious Studies Class." She said, crimson lips pursed. "And insisted that the religion of Many Faces was a true one, although we all know it's a cult from that place...Braavos." She recalled. "Well you should have seen Mrs Mordane's face! You know we all believe in the Old Gods here and to come in and start saying our religion is wrong and he worships something else completely _evil _well-"

Sansa continued to rave and rant but Arya for once was not angry. It was soothing, therapeutic almost. All summer Sansa had been dismal and down, weeping and silent in turns. To have her back to her annoying self was a welcome change, even if she was complaining about one of Arya's friends.

All through summer she'd fenced with him and Syrio said she was improving greatly. Jaqen helped her, offering tips Syrio didn't say, pinpointing her exact weaknesses. It was good to practise with someone else, someone who knew you. After six weeks of none stop fencing Arya could confidently say her and Jaqen were friends and knew each other fairly well, but even their friendly chatter had always revolved around fencing. They'd never hung out like normal teenagers; certainly not like Sansa who frequented the shops with her girlfriends and not like Robb and Theon who lurked around town and the local park.

They were friends of a sort, and he knew everything about her whilst she seemingly knew nothing about him. It only made her more inquisitive, more eager to be his friend. Find out why he smiled that way when she managed to steal a point, breath ragged. Find out why he moved to Winterfell and lived such a solitary life. Find out about his past the way she spilled out hers in breaks, choking down stale water and wiping away sweat and tears. She wanted to know why he put that white stripe in his hair, why he talked in such a way.

She wanted to know how he drove her wild with curiosity.

Only her, because after that first day the student population had been... leery of Jaqen H'ghar from the city Lorath. The boys who had glared and muttered insults at him ended up in strange accidents, and suddenly the girls who cooed over him didn't anymore.

In a few weeks he'd managed to accomplish the rare feat of scaring a wide majority of students, who then promptly tried to forget he existed - something they really couldn't do given his penchant for appearing out of nowhere rather like an assassin or ninja.

He scared everyone including, Arya thought gleefully, Joffery Baratheon.

Arya leant against her locker opposite the sixth formers common room and watched Jaqen perched on a table, who looked strange in his uniform. He didn't seem too concerned about being a loner, much like Arya.

It was only sensible the two loners paired up, so Arya strode determinedly into the sixth form common room without a second thought.

"Excuse you." Her sister's friend Margery Tyrell arched an eyebrow and moved in front of her, hands on hips. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting my friend." She skirted past her to weasel in next to Jaqen who turned to stare at her amused. "Hi."

"Hello Arya." He tossed an apple into the air and she lunged forward to catch it. He smirked and bit into the ripe green fruit, long lean legs dangling back and forth slightly.

They sat in comfortable silence, for now Arya was there next to him without the usual conversation about fencing she didn't know what to say. She casted around briefly for a topic before giving up with a sigh, leaning back and observing the sixth formers while they joked around.

"You are bored?" Jaqen questioned, brushing his white strand of hair out of his eyes.

"Why do you dye that part white?" She blurted. "Why not your whole hair, or not at all?"

Clearly he wasn't expecting that, for he smiled broadly.

She quite liked his smile.

"Well?" She prodded him, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

"I like to change my appearance." He said finally. "Nobody else has a white stripe in their hair, see?"

"Well no." She crinkled her nose before smirking. "Does that mean one day the white streak will turn pink or purple?"

"No it'll be a whole head next time." He deadpanned and she laughed, legs knocking against the table and making it rock.

"Maybe you could get a few piercings. Or a tattoo."

His smile was positively wicked. "How do you know I don't have one already?"

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as she flushed.

He laughed, throwing his head back. Nearby people shot them dirty looks but nobody dared say anything to him.

"Get another one then." Arya told him when she recovered. "Bigger."

She snorted with laughter at her own teasing, and Jaqen shook his head at her antics.

"Would you ever get a tattoo or piercing?" He asked curiously. "I imagine you're the type."

"I would like a tattoo." Arya admits. "A wolf, howling at the moon. On my arm." She rolls her sleeve up to show him exactly where. "But my Mother won't let me, not until I'm eighteen at least. Then it doesn't matter what she thinks because I can get it myself."

"How is your Mother?" Jaqen asked, knowing all about the summer of Hell.

"She's... better." Arya nodded defensively. "We persuaded her to go on a holiday with our Uncle Edmure and her Father before he died..." She sighed. "He was in pain, and his wife had died years before. I didn't cry, when I found out. Is that bad?" She gnawed on her lip guiltily. "He'd lived a long life, a happy life. I thought it was good that he wasn't suffering now. He was at peace."

Arya sighed morosely and slipped off the table as the bell rang overhead. Jaqen tossed the apple core in the bin and shadowed her as she walked out of the room.

"People grieve in different ways." He told her as she hitched her bag further up her shoulder, her jacket dwarfing her as she hunched her shoulders. "Just because you did not cry does not mean you didn't care. Death is a gift of mercy to humans who suffer all their lives."

"You're not scared of death." She whispered, looking up at him.

"Once you do not fear your enemy they are nothing more than an acquaintance." He shrugged. "When I meet death I will thank him for giving me eternal peace."

She nodded vaguely, a strange little laugh bubbling from her lips. "My life is so hectic at the moment. I barely know who I am anymore."

"You're Arya of House Stark who has a fondness for fencing and squabbles with her sister Sansa. Your family has always fought with the Lannisters and other families near here and you yourself carry on the tradition by hating Joffery Baratheon – which is understandable." He scowled slightly and continued.

"You like wolves and horse riding and all your brothers, especially Jon. You bite your lip when you're thinking hard, or trying not to think at all. You laugh instead of crying now, but your smile still doesn't touch your eyes. Not truly."

"That's sort of creepy." She commented after a second of silence, dawdling outside of her classroom. "You know more about me then I do."

"You only look with your eyes lovely girl."

And on that cryptic note he departs, walking along the corridor without a care in the world, ignoring the people who gave him a wide berth. Arya watched him go slightly bewildered by the conversation with the enigmatic boy.

She shook her head in disbelief before slipping into Mr Frey's class.


End file.
